


Good morning, sunshine

by DarkShadeless



Series: Best Rivals Forever [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Love Confessions, Fluff, M/M, They are sweet, XD, poor Malavai crushes so hard on these idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29040492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShadeless/pseuds/DarkShadeless
Summary: Malavai has a feeling he should have fled to the cockpit while he still could.
Relationships: Malavai Quinn/Male Sith Warrior, Male Sith Warrior/Male Sith Warrior, Yon'Sar al Thum/Ven'fir Polaris (OCs)
Series: Best Rivals Forever [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130552
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Good morning, sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercuryPilgrim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryPilgrim/gifts).



> Inspired by this post on Tumblr (like, five minutes ago xD)  
> https://darkshadeless.tumblr.com/post/641550819309797376/you-know-how-dean-is-always-using-nicknames-or

Malavai is in the galley, on his second cup of kaf of the day and trying to get some work done when their lord finally deigns to appear. The second one that is. Polaris has been up for a little while and is trying to mask his complete incompetence when it comes to handling kitchen appliances by poking around on the buttons of the kaf machine.

Malavai dearly hopes its going to survive that treatment. The rice cooker didn’t.

Now, he respects his commanding officers, despite whatever faults they may have. Lord Polaris is a monster on the battlefield, for all he is also a nuisance off it. Lord Sar is a pinnacle of Sith perfection and brings a discipline to the table Polaris doesn’t... but by the Emperor he is useless in the morning. They both are.

Which does put in question why Ven’fir has been up and about, fresh as a daisy, at least it does until the most obnoxious alarm Malavai has ever heard howls through the ship from the storage compartment Yon has claimed as his quarters, in absence of an actual room. Polaris had won the race for _that_. They've been at each other's throat ever since, as Vette tells the tale. From what Malavai has observed she isn't wrong. Case in point.

Bent over the kaf machine Ven giggles so hard his shoulders shake.

Ah.

Mayhem before dawn it is.

Warily (and wearily) Malavai draws the kaf pot closer to his person and considers the wisdom of bolting for the cockpit. But he _is_ battling to enforce ‘No Food, No Drinks’ over there and if he breaks it himself they’ll laugh in his face.

… he could leave the kaf.

… that’s not going to happen.

Yon slinks from the recesses of his quarters / their storage compartment like an eldritch being drawn form the depths of a Kaasi pond. His hair sticks up on one side and he has pillow creases on his face.

That’s as much as Malavai lets himself look at before he concentrates on his liquid breakfast again. Yon sleeps shirtless. There’s… there’s a lot of him on display.

And a lot to see.

Which Malavai doesn’t. He _may_ steal a glance. Just one. It’s not his fault the Sith on his ship think adhering to dress regulations is optional.

Yon crawls into his seat at the table with a growl. He seems to contemplate murder for a laborious second and decide it’s just not worth it. Malavai sends a small prayer of thanks their Emperor’s way and hopes he doesn’t hear it. “Ven why.”

Ven’s shoulder’s shake harder. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, voice bright with mirth.

“I hate you,” Yon intones flatly.

That doesn’t even seem to be a speed bump for Ven’fir’s good mood. “You love me.”

“Ugh.” Instead of going for a more pro-active approach in future prank prevention, Yon pillows his head on the table and shields his eyes from the dim light of the kitchenette.

He’s asleep again in seconds. Malavai’s heart gives a little twinge at the sight. In sleep, discipline and comportment melt out of Yon’s frame. A small amount of tension remains, a potential for movement as if he is a cat rolled up in a spot of sunshine. Ready to spring up at any moment but for now… relaxed.

The urge to reach out and brush a hand through his messy hair is strong.

Malavai doesn’t seem to be the only one who feels that way. At the counter Ven’fir switches to boiling water and fixes a cup of tea. He doesn’t touch Yon’s set, just grabs a cup and a tea bag but it’s the thought that counts, Malavai supposes. When it’s done steeping he pads over on silent feet to put it on the table in front of his fellow apprentice and squeezes his shoulder.

“Morning sunshine.” Ven’fir infuses his voice with the most obnoxious amount of gleeful cheer he can possibly manage and it makes Malavai cringe and pull his kaf closer.

Yon grumbles, blinking his eyes open blearily. “Morning, love,” he answers, sleepy, barely awake and entirely sincere.

The grin on Ven’fir’s face falters. He freezes like a dear in headlights, surprise snatching mischievousness from him and leaving something behind that is too open, too vulnerable for Malavai to even dare look at. He averts his eyes, heart pounding.

But there are no good choices of other places to look here. Yon’s brow furrows before he sees what he has done, realizes what he has said in full and confusion smooths into embarrassed horror. Color creeps into his cheeks.

They stare at each other.

Malavai has a feeling he should have fled to the cockpit while he still could.


End file.
